


Johnlock: Flowers and Dates

by bakrstreetboys



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Cute, F/F, F/M, First Date, First Kiss, First Relationship, Fluff, Gardening, Gay, Greg Lestrade - Freeform, Harry Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, Just very cute, M/M, Molly Hooper - Freeform, Molstrade, Mycroft Holmes - Freeform, Purple Shirt of Sex, Really fluffy, Sally Donovan - Freeform, Sherlock likes bees, Univeristy AU, johnlock au, maybe mild smut, no angst i promise, sally and harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakrstreetboys/pseuds/bakrstreetboys
Summary: Johnlock university au, super cute and fluffy. Hope you enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1: First Date!

**Author's Note:**

> Little bit of context: dwarf irises are cute little purple flowers, search them up on google for images. Also sorry if anything about the university is factually incorrect i'm still in secondary school. Enjoy!  
> (I don't own BBC Sherlock or any characters mentioned etc)

John's mind was definitely not focused. His wavy blonde hair dropped over his forehead, which in turn was dropped over a open biology textbook. His eyes had glazed over and he wished (in a futile hope) that the information would just work it's way into his brain if he just kept staring at page 394. But nothing was working; he could not stay focused on the anatomy of a monkey for reasons he could not deduce.   
Four cups of coffee and seventeen yawns later, John found himself wandering the university grounds in the hope that a change of scenery would refresh his tired mind. And indeed it did. He found himself noticing and naming most visible plants in the garden, filing away the unknown species for later research. He had leant down to capture the scent of a beautifully emerald flower (perhaps a gladiolus?), when his fingers brushed upon something distinctly human. He drew his hand away from the flower and quickly looked up. His eyes were met with nervous blue-grey ones and his heart melted entirely at the chocolate curls that hung softly over a porcelain forehead.   
'Oh I'm sorry.' John cursed his overly British manner, and went to turn away when he heard a stuttering voice surface through the calm night air.   
'It's a dwarf iris.'  
'Sorry?' John turned back around to see the the brown haired boy wringing his hands awkwardly together.  
'Um.. That flower, it's a dwarf iris, it's my favourite.'  
'Oh yeah? It's pretty, how come i haven't seen it around before?'  
'I planted it - yesterday.'  
John smiled gently, this guy was cute and he was stealing his heart already.   
'I didn't take you for the gardener type, with those hands?'  
The other man did, indeed, have gorgeous hands. The hands of someone that played a traditional instrument, like a piano or violin. The long white fingers definitely did not look like they'd been busy scraping up dirt or handling a trowel.  
'I don't make a habit of it, but this garden was missing a certain plant, and those lousy university gardeners would probably fuck it up anyway, so I took matters into my own hands.'  
John smiled as the man gained confidence: it was clear that he was a shy person, but John felt an odd feeling of pride swell in his chest as the man came out of his shell within a few minutes of small talk.  
'Yeah probably. Do you come here often?'  
'Only at night, um, there usually aren't people here when I am.'  
'Oh I just came here to get away from my ghastly revision, but if you want me to leave you be, I can go?'   
John posed it as a question because he really didn't want to leave - he was enthralled by the steely eyes and tiny smirks - but he didn't want the man to feel enclosed or trapped (John knew the feeling and he would never wish it on anyone).  
'No, I... Company is nice sometimes, and um, you are good company.'  
John placed an open hand into the empty space between them.  
'John Watson.'  
The other man shook the extended hand and stepped forward slightly.  
'Sherlock Holmes.'

Over the next few weeks, Sherlock and John continued to meet in the university gardens, and they found more and more about each other. John was taking a degree in medicine, Sherlock was doing latin and chemistry. They were both younger siblings, and grew up in Southern London. Sherlock came from a wealthy family but was living in a shitty apartment - desperate to prove to his family that he could make his own way. John came from a slightly poorer family, and was living in a small house with seven other people, and hated it, but put up with it because there was no way he was asking his family for financial help. Sherlock was a genius and John had the feeling he knew the shorter mans entire life story simply from his clothes and the hair gel he used. His deducing skills, apparently, put a lot of people off, but John found it fascinating and brilliant and every other differentiation of the adjective known in the English language. 

It was exactly two months and sixteen days since their first garden meeting (John knew, he'd marked each meeting on his calendar), and John was falling fast. He decided, as he chucked a stripy black and white jumper on, that today was the day he'd ask Sherlock Holmes on a date. He locked his bedroom door behind him, lest any of his housemates decide to play a prank on him again (apparently it's funny to wrap every item in someone's room with clingfilm). He left the house, subconsciously fixing his hair frequently as he walked the familiar route to the garden. Sherlock was already there when he arrived, sat on the old bench in the corner of the garden, cradling a flask of coffee, and reading an extraordinarily thick book on the different species of bee.   
'Mind if I join you?'  
Sherlock smiled as he looked up from his book, shuffling slightly to the left in order to accommodate for the addition to the creaky bench. John sat down quietly, immediately linking his fingers with Sherlock's, it was something they always did, but, unbeknownst to eachother, it still bought butterflies to both of their tummies.   
'Sherlock, I..'  
'One moment. Reading.'  
Many people might find what Sherlock said rude, but John found it endearing. So he waited the 47 seconds until Sherlock finished the chapter.   
'The white tailed bumblebee is really fascinating.'  
'Is it your favourite?'  
'Yes, it's got stripes.'  
'Like my jumper?'  
'Yes, but bees are yellow and black, John.'  
'I know.'  
They settled into a comfortable silence for a while, both of them now reading the Encyclopaedia of British Bees - Illustrated.  
As they turned to the next chapter (Endangered British Species),  
John drew his eyes away from the page and closed the book, much to Sherlocks annoyance.  
'I was rea-'  
'I know, but I wanted to ask you something.'  
'Fine.'  
'Can we, um, would you- Ok, fuck let me start again.'  
John shuffled around so he was facing Sherlock.  
'Do you want to get dinner with me?'  
'Like a date?' Sherlocks eyes looked nervous, hesitant, but John wasn't going to back out on the offer.  
'Yes, like a date.'  
Three days had passed, and due to the ridiculous mountain of revision John found himself stuck under, he hadn't managed to go to the gardens again. But, today was the day of their date, and, despite the concerning pile of work building on his desk, there was no way John was prolonging this date. So he showered quickly, applied slightly more hair gel than usual, and pulled out a creased shirt from the back of his cramped wardrobe. He frowned at the lack of an iron, and shook the shirt out in a futile attempt in smooth the creases. Deciding it didn't really matter, John rushed out of his house, briskly walking to the restaurant just outside of the campus. 

Sherlock was nervous, to say the least. He'd never kissed anyone before, let alone been on a date. He'd never worked up the courage to ask someone, and no one had thought him decent enough to ask him themselves. And so, here he was, eighteen years of age and dressing for his very first date. His unruly curls were untouched, but a tight purple shirt stretched across his toned chest, and his shined shoes clicked as he strolled out of his apartment. 

The weather was dry and bright, yet slightly chilly due to the season. People wandered the streets, ducking in and out of cafes, bookshops, restaurants. They were laughing with friends, or smiling at partners, or holding hands with children. And two young men were walking towards a small Italian restaurant in the centre of town, each smiling with anticipation. The taller man arrived first, taking a seat next to the window, in order to deduce people as they walked past. There was the man whose dog was dying but he couldn't afford the treatment, and so, unbeknownst to his wife, was dealing drugs in an attempt to pay for the care. There was the woman who had argued with her daughter over her new girlfriend, and was making her way home in order to apologise. There was the man on his way to a long awaited date, his shivering hands shoved into jacket pockets, a tiny smirk glued knot his face as he imagined the course of the date. This man spotted his date through the steamy window of the restaurant and his smile grew infinitely. He stumbled through the door, shaking his head in embarrassment at himself, and took a seat next to Sherlock.   
'Aha, I've been waiting for this moment for months and the first thing I do is fall through the door. You look amazing by the way.'  
Sherlocks fave grew hot at the cheekily inserted compliment, and he stuttered out a thank you, and something to do with John's clumsiness just adding to his adorability.  
John was sure his meal was lovely, but he couldn't quite concentrate in the taste of it after Sherlock had removed his coat, leaving open the white expanse of throat, contrasting beautifully with the purple shirt. Every time Sherlock swallowed, the muscles in his neck contracted and relaxed and John had a hard time speaking after he noticed that.   
It's not like Sherlock hadn't seen John's line of sight either, and it made him confident; this was something he'd rarely felt before.   
It wasn't long before the waiter was arriving with the bill, and the two were donning coats again.   
'Tonight was lovely, Sherlock.'  
'It was.'  
'Do you want to, um, head back to mine or..'  
Sherlock, frankly, was stumped by this question. He knew what John meant - he wasn't stupid. But tonight had been so so nice, and Sherlock didn't want to do it all on one night.   
'I, um, do you reckon we could, er, not? I..It's not that I don't want to, but you would be, be my first relationship, and I don't want to rush this.'  
'Sherlock stop worrying. That's absolutely fine, but, do you think maybe I could get a goodnight kiss?'  
Sherlock nodded slightly, and just allowed John to lean forward and touch their lips together ever so softly. Sherlock was tingling all over and he closed his eyes for a second before John pulled away and gave Sherlock a small wink before ducking out the door and disappearing off into the night.


	2. Chapter 2: Moving in?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another meeting in the garden, Sherlocks a cutie!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoy, next chapter should be up in s couple days as i had some time to write on monday! please leave comments and kudos as it makes me very happy :)

Sherlock sat in his room smiling. It wasn't something he did often, simply because he found it infuriating and almost impossible to stay still (unless he was reading). But here he was, still tingling from Johns kiss, trying to catalogue every feeling he felt at the moment so he'd never forget. He didn't quite know what to do with himself; he felt kind of high, without the need for his best 7% solution. So he just unceremoniously shucked his shoes off, and clambered into bed (still fully clothed). He didn't plan on sleeping that night, but laying down helped him to think.   
It wasn't until 1:37am that Sherlock began to get bored of just laying there in the dark. The genius wasn't a particularly sociable person, and yet he would've done anything for John to be there with him at that moment.   
So he did the next best thing; he grabbed his coat and his keys, slipped his feet into ancient converse, and left his apartment. The night was a little but cold, but surprisingly warm for May in England. Sherlock liked it this way - it was neither too warm nor too cold. Before long, he had reached the university gardens. They were almost pitch black, save for the light of one lamppost positioned on the far side of the garden. But Sherlock had no trouble finding his way to their bench as he had the route imprinted in his brain.  
He heard John before he saw him. The shuddering breaths were deep and regular, meaning he was angry rather than upset. The shaking of his leg told him the same: it was deliberate rather than subconscious, and yet it was laboured. Meaning there was something hindering the movement, but John needed to focus in anger into an action, and the difficulty of the motion only helped to further release his anger. So John had a bag balanced on his leg, which (along with the time John had chosen to arrive here) led Sherlock to believe that John was no longer living in his shared house. He was also wearing his favourite beige jumper (which Sherlock knew he only wore when he needed comfort).  
Sherlock sat down next to John, which, frankly, scared the living shit out of the shorter man.  
'Sherlock, what the f-'  
'Why did you decide to move out? Did they clingfilm your room again?'  
John looked at Sherlock in awe and slight exasperation.   
'How did you- Never mind. They decided it would be fun to move all of my stuff out into the garden. It rained.'  
'Oh. Sorry.'  
'It's alright, really. All my important stuff was either in my bag or my desk, so it's mostly dry. But i'm gonna need to get some new textbooks, and stationary. Fuck I can't even afford that! How am i gonna find a place to live? I'm such an idiot.'  
Sherlock turned to John with a tiny smirk.   
'Yes.'   
When John turned to look at Sherlock with an annoyed expression on his face, Sherlock quickly added:  
'Oh don't look at me like that, most people are. I was going to say: come live with me.'  
John clearly hadn't considered that an option, and his eyes lit up briefly before his shoulders dropped and he shook his head.  
'Sherlock, as much as I'd love to, I can't.'  
'Why not?'   
To Sherlock it was the perfect arrangement. He got to see more of John, and John would find cheap accommodation with a sensible roommate who cared for him.   
'I.. Well for one, I told you, I've got no money for rent.'  
'Don't worry about that, neither do I.'  
'Well then how do you-'  
'The landlady, Mrs Hudson, gives me a very discounted price, and Mycroft pays for the rest.'  
'Mycroft?'  
'My brother.'  
'Oh.'  
John still didn't sound convinced, and, if truth be told, his thinking was very loud, and quite distracting.   
'Just say it.'   
'What?'   
'You're clearly thinking about something, yet are neglecting to tell me what it is.'  
John smiled into his lap, his tongue darting out between his lips - his nervous habit.   
'I really like you Sherlock.'  
Grin growing hugely, Sherlock turned to look at John.   
'The feeling is mutual, but why would that stop us from living together?'  
And the shorter man honestly couldn't answer that question. Why would it stop them from living together? John had no objection, and Sherlock clearly didn't, so why not?   
'Well, I mean, when people are together, they usually wait a bit longer before moving in together.'  
Blue-grey eyes focused sharply onto deep brown ones, and the intensity sent a shiver down John's spine.   
'Sherlock?'   
His voice broke as he enquired, unable to draw his eyes away.   
'Yeah, that's getting a bit creepy now.'  
Shaking his head slightly with a self deprecating chuckle, Sherlock replied.   
'So you... We're, um... You want us to-'  
'Be together? Yeah, of course I do.'   
At the look of slight panic on Sherlocks face, John backtracked immediately.  
'I mean, if you want us to be?'

The air was still and the bright flowers were barely visible by the light of one lamppost when Sherlock made the biggest decision of his life. He grabbed the front of John's beige jumper with tight needy fists, and crushed their lips together. With a gasp, John bought a hand up to grip the short curls at the back of Sherlocks neck, the other resting on Sherlocks thigh.   
An hour had passed, and two boys were heading back to a small apartment in the middle of London. Hands were interlocked tightly, and swollen lips were unavoidably grinning as they talked about nothing, and everything.


	3. Chapter 3: Tea?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johns first day living with Sherlock and it couldn't be more perfect. (There's a little bit of smut but not much )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I promise the rest of the characters will be introduced soon i just wanted John and Sherlock to love in their little bubble a bit longer :)

Streaks of light filtered through the gap in the curtains, catching the steam as it rose in tiny clouds above the kettle. When Sherlock entered the kitchen, John hid his giddy smile with a yawn, but the genius caught the smirk and pulled John into a hug from behind. The kettle whistled angrily and John broke the hug to take it off the stove. As he pulled two mugs from the cupboard, Sherlock collapsed onto the sofa, humming softly and rubbing his eyes.  
John took a moment to appreciate the slim torso and slight muscles in pale arms. He noticed how the sun cast shadows onto Sherlocks face and accented his sharp cheekbones and nose, and how Sherlocks bed hair was probably the most adorable thing ever. Clearing his thrust before he said any of this aloud, John took the lid off the jar containing tea bags.  
'Tea?'  
Sherlock grunted in the affirmative and opened his eyes, watching John's back muscles contract and relax as he retrieved the sugar from the cupboard that was nearly how of his reach. His pajama bottoms hung loosely from his hips and Sherlock rolled onto his front, a groan soft in his throat.  
A dip in the sofa indicated that John had joined him, and a few minutes later they were both sipping tea, legs comfortably entangled, and Sherlocks laptop playing netflix balanced precariously on Sherlocks bony hips. Johns head rested on Sherlocks chest, and the latter's breathing became deep and heavy as he fully relaxed for the first time in weeks. Placing his empty mug on the small wooden table next to the sofa, he bought a hand to Johns hair, letting the other rest on the bare skin between Johns ribs and hips. As the film played on, Sherlock began running his fingers through the soft blonde waves, occasionally allowing his fingers to gently massage John's scalp.  
Humming softly, John closed his eyes, ignoring the action on the screen. He focused on the nimble fingers in his hair, along with the warm hand resting on his side. Slowly, John reached up and placed a hand on the back of Sherlocks neck, and sat up slightly. The hand in his hair fell into Johns lap, resting hesitantly on his thigh, and the hand on his waist gripped ever so slightly tighter.  
'Mm Sherlock.'  
The pairs eyes locked for a moment before Sherlock dropped his head with a self deprecating smile.  
'What's up?'  
Bringing a finger to Sherlocks chin, John tilted his head up, forcing blue eyes upon brown ones.  
'Um, when you kissed me at the restaurant,' Sherlock cleared his throat a little, relishing how good it felt to open up to someone after years of shutting everyone out.  
'That was my first kiss.'  
Having predicted John to look surprised, or even shocked, Sherlocks expectations were subverted when he saw his eyes dilate ever so slightly from beneath the golden tresses which half covered his forehead. A smile spread across his face, and Johns hand moved to caress Sherlocks cheek, one thumb stroking across a defined cheekbone. The innocent action left Sherlock holding back tiny gasps, and he took his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure how to respond.  
'Really?' John asked softly.  
Swinging his leg round so he could see Sherlock more clearly, John kept his eyes focused on Sherlocks, and watched them dilate slowly.  
Sherlock nodded softly, closing his eyes as he tried not to focus on the feeling of John's thighs on his. He enjoyed the sensation, but this was all so new to him. As he opened his eyes, his worries were washed away in an instant. Johns facial features were moulded into an expression of care, and even though the pair had only known eachother for a few months, Sherlock felt completely safe.  
'How do you feel about a second?'  
Humming happily, Sherlock moved his hands up to Johns waist, and closed his eyes as the blonde haired man slowly leaned forward.  
What had started off as a gentle and slow kiss turned into a heated passionate one which had tingles running up Sherlocks spine and settling hotly in his core. John nipped gently at Sherlocks lower lip until the latter was opening his mouth in order to let the former explore his mouth with his tongue.  
Ever so gently, John laid Sherlock onto his back, leaning his weight onto his hands. He moved forward, brushing Sherlocks lips softly and carefully. Without moving back, he whispered:  
'Is this ok?'  
A little breathless, Sherlock nodded assuredly, moving up to meet Johns lips. His hips followed the action, and soon John was bearing down on him, causing insatiable gasps and groans to escape his pink lips.  
Sherlock could hardly breathe, let alone focus on moving his mouth in time with Johns. He pressed his lips up whenever he remembered to, but mostly let John take the lead. He just lay there, impossibly hard in his trackies, letting out these little moans that had John reeling.  
Bucking his hips up with no rhythm or finesse to speak of, Sherlock tangled one hand into Johns hair and had his hip in a iron grip with the other. His noises peaked in volume and pitch- he'd never felt like this before.  
'J...John.' Sherlock screwed his eyes shut, unable to force down the heat in his stomach any longer.  
'Please, f..fuck.'  
John growled low in his throat. In the short time he'd known the other man, he'd never heard Sherlock swear. He couldn't quite admit how much it turned him on.  
A sharp twist of the hips from John, and Sherlock was coming, eyes rolled back and fingers clenched tightly in blonde hair.  
At the sight of him, John shoved a hand into his pajama pants, and a few tugs had him dropping his head in pleasure, grinding down onto Sherlock one last time.  
Both panting slightly, they pressed their foreheads together.  
'Was that ok?' Sherlock had that look of self doubt in those beautiful eyes again.  
'Jesus Sherlock.' John chuckled softly, kissing Sherlock with swollen lips.  
'That was amazing.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :))


	4. Chapter 4: Time for Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Couple of new characters are introduced :) sorry this chapters a bit shorter than usual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, next chapter will be an extra long one as i won't be able to update for the next few weeks due to exams (wish me luck) :)

'Sherlock!'  
An overly bright voice cut through the heavy morning air. The cafe was fairly busy, but it was quiet, and half the customers turned to look with annoyed eyes, while the others kept theirs locked in their screens, too tired to bother with the social aspects of life.  
Sherlock would normally place himself in the second group of people, but for Molly, he would make an exception. With a clumsy sort of gracefulness, she slid into the seat opposite Sherlock, laden with biology textbooks, and a coffee large enough to block his view of the entrance entirely.  
Molly must have noticed the slightly disgruntled frown that had settled between Sherlocks eyebrows, as her confidence shrank, her hands tightened around her coffee.  
'Oh, um, sorry. I should have asked if it was ok to sit.'  
When Sherlock failed to reply, she began to stand, and the harsh scraping of the chair against the old wooden floor reminded Sherlock of his manners.  
'Oh no, you can sit, it's fine. I am expecting someone, but you're welcome to sit with me until they arrive.'  
Fiddling with the loose thread in her old scarf, Molly settled into comfortable conversation with Sherlock. The latter found she was the only person (except John) with whom he could speak easily, and Sherlocks face became more and more animated as the discussion continued.  
After a couple seconds of silence in which the pair sipped at their neglected drinks, Molly asked the question she'd been longing to ask since she arrived.  
'So. Who are you waiting for?'  
Not able to hold it in, Sherlocks voice was excited and fast, and a grin spread across his face as he relayed how he and John had met.  
Molly listened carefully, delighted at Sherlocks enthusiasm, and happy that he'd found someone who excited him so much.  
'And so then I just, well, i asked him to move in with me.'  
'After one date?!'  
'Well, he needed somewhere to live, and, well there's not really a downside to living with him.'  
'Ok I need to ask: have you two fucked yet?'  
'Have who fucked yet?'  
Before Sherlock had a chance to answer, John was standing at the table, a mischievous grin causing dimples in his cheeks. Pulling up a chair, he dumped his bag on he floor under the table, and pressed a kiss to Sherlocks forehead.  
Sherlock didn't think he could possibly blush anymore than he was right now, when Molly spoke again.  
'So you must be the famous John.'  
'Indeed I am.'  
'So back to my previous question, have you two fucked yet?'  
She eyed both of them with a smirk on her face, revelling in Sherlocks embarrassed eyes. John winked at Molly, before taking Sherlocks hand and kissing him softly.  
'So I'll take that as a yes.'  
Sherlock blushed even harder, stuttering a failure of an excuse that held no proper words. John winked at Molly, and the latter began gathering her things.  
'I will take that as my cue to leave.'  
Smiling, Molly squeezed Sherlocks shoulder before practically skipping out of the small cafe.  
As the pair made their way to the university, the weather began to brighten up and it wasn't long before they had their jackets tied around their waists.  
'Is Molly dating anyone?'  
And that easily, Sherlock fell back into that unending pit of self doubt. His head dropped in order to let his curls hide the fear in his eyes.  
'Um.. Er, no. Why?'  
Keeping his eyes trained on the pavement below, Sherlock hoped John wouldn't hear the tremble in his voice.  
Of course, John noticed. He stopped, and took Sherlocks hand, looking into anxious eyes.  
'Whatever you're thinking - stop it. I'm not asking for me, Molly would be a perfect fit for Greg.'  
'Greg?' Sherlocks voice was relieved and inquisitive, and as they began walking again, his step was lighter than before.  
'Yeah, he's my best friend. He's been single for a while, and honestly, I reckon Molly would be great for him.'  
They continued talking about each other's best friends until they reached the university.  
'I've got a lecture in B4.' John said once they got to the entrance of the halls.  
'Mines in C7.'  
'Meet you by the fountain after?'  
'Sure.'  
They parted with a short kiss, which quickly turned a lot more passionate.  
'We really gotta go...'  
They leaned their foreheads against each other's, ignoring the floods of people rushing past to wherever they needed to be.  
Parting with one final kiss, Sherlock entered his next lesson with pinker than usual lips, and a blush that had spread from his cheeks down his jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos greatly appreciated :)


	5. Chapter 5: Double Date?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Molly and Greg, and there's a tiny bit of smut. Enjoy :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading :) and the next chapter won't be up for the next couple of weeks because i have exams. also any ideas for the story would be greatly appreciated

'A double date? Seriously?'  
'Yeah Greg,' Johns voice took on an affectionately sarcastic tone. 'It's a thing people do, you know? Go get dinner with-'  
'Yeah I know what it means, twat.'  
'Oh, resorting to name calling now, are we?'  
John could hear Greg sigh through the phone, and smiled to himself. Laying on his back on his bed, John ran a hand absently through his hair.  
'I just mean,' Greg paused for effect, taking an exaggerated breath. 'I didn't know you had a boyfriend until five minutes ago, and now you want me to go on a double date with you two, and his best friend that I've never met.'  
'Yep that's basically what in saying.'  
'Ok firstly, what's her name?'  
'Molly.'  
John sat up in bed, always unsure what exactly do to with himself whilst on the phone. In real life, he was a very expressive person, and it takes him a while to realise that no one can see him nod, or point when he's on the phone.  
It took a while, and a promise from John to pay for Gregs ticket the next time they went to the cinema ('Plus popcorn! And it's gotta be salted, alright? That other shit sucks.'), but the aspiring policeman finally agreed. 

'Sherlock, are you telling me that you want to go on a double date?'  
Sherlock ran a hand nervously through his brown curls. Huffing a breath through his nose, Sherlock ignored Mollys questioning eyes and nodded.  
'Sherlock Holmes, the boy who a couple of weeks ago hadn't had his first kiss, is asking me to go on a double date with him and his boyfriend?'  
'Um yeah. Yes.'  
Mollys eyebrows raised even higher (if that were possible), and she took a sip of her caramel infused coffee.  
'You know, last time I was here, my question was never fully answered.'  
Knowing exactly what she meant, Sherlock tried to force innocence into his blue grey eyes.  
'Which question?'  
'Sherlock, you remember everything. And from the blush you're failing to hide, I can tell that you remember this.'  
Molly knew to tread carefully; this was Sherlocks first kiss, first relationship, first everything. And he was sensitive. She knew a wrong word could send him back to wherever he was, and he'd been doing so much better recently. His cheekbones still stood out on his face, but a layer of chub made his face look healthier, and the dimples when he smiled were adorable. A light has entered his eyes, which had grown since he'd met John.  
'Fine, ok. Um, no we didn't.'  
'Ok I can tell from that that something happened.'  
Her curiosity won, but she continued to be careful. When Sherlock didn't answer though, Molly backtracked almost immediately.  
'Look, I'm sorry if I pushed a bit too far, you don't have to..'  
'No, I mean, it's ok, I just don't really know how to, um..'  
Molly smiled softly.  
'Ok, well, did you kiss.'  
'Yes.'  
'Um,' she paused for effect, enjoying watching Sherlock get redder and redder.  
'Right, did either of you remove any clothes?'  
'Well it was in the morning, so we were both in pajamas.'  
'Which consisted of..'  
Molly drew out the last word, waiting for Sherlock to reply.  
'Trackies-'  
'Aaand nothing else going by the look on your face.'  
Sherlock buried his face in his hands. Hoping Molly wouldn't notice, he crossed his legs under the table, desperately trying to provide some friction to his growing problem.  
Resurfacing from the safety of his hands, he tried to change the conversation from the subject he'd been jacking off to since it'd happened.  
'Look, just will you come?'  
Molly nodded, and just twenty minutes later they were leaving the coffee shop, parting with a hug as they went their separate ways. 

Sherlock arrived home, and was startled when he heard the shower running. Then he remembered John (how could he forget), and the shocked look on his face immediately transformed into one of happiness. Wandering over to the kitchen, Sherlock retrieved two mugs from the cupboard above him, and plonked two tea bags, and a tea spoon of sugar in each. While he waited for the kettle to boil, he flicked through the photos on his phone, his favourite being the one of him and John on their first date. John had look gorgeous, as usual, but Sherlock also thought he didn't look to bad. He'd never thought that of himself before. Hissing angrily, the kettle clicked and Sherlock waited a moment before filling up both of the mugs (his was his favourite one adorned with a pattern of flying bees, while John was gifted with a red and black checkered one). He stirred the tea before adding a splash of milk, and set the mugs on the coffee table just as he heard the shower squeak off. The date was all he had on his mind at the moment. What if Molly didn't like Greg? What if Greg didn't like Molly? What if they dated and broke up, then Molly got mad at Sherlock for suggesting the idea? Sherlock felt his chest getting tight, and he took a sip of the comforting tea in order to try and calm himself down. The warm trickled down his throat, and he immediately felt more relaxed (albeit only slightly). Counting down from ten in his head, Sherlock took a deep breath. He had just reached one when John entered the room, clad in grey jeans and a loose pale blue tshirt. Sherlock felt a flush creep up his neck, and hid behind his mug of tea.  
'How's Molly?' John greeted Sherlock with a kiss to the cheek, grabbed his mug and sat down on the sofa, careful not to spill any of the hot drink.  
Sherlock held the mug in both hands, feeling the warmth seep  
through.  
'Yeah she's good.'  
They both took a gentle sip of the tea, and John placed his back in the table, while Sherlock kept his in hand.  
'Did she want to meet Greg?'  
'Yeah, she said 'as long as he's not a sociopath or something.' To which I assured her he wasn't.'  
John laughed, a proper head thrown back, deep chested laugh. Sherlock couldn't help but giggle.  
Once the giggles subsided (not helped by Johns insistence to poke at his ribcage), Sherlock finished his tea and leant his head into Johns shoulder.  
'I have something for you.'  
Sherlock said absentmindedly, he'd been meaning to give John the gift yesterday, but then he'd arranged to go to the cafe with Molly.  
'Oh yeah?' John's voice had dropped an octave, and the fingers he carded through Sherlocks hair was making it hard for the latter to concentrate on his next words.  
As much as he wanted to stay there (forever if he'd had the choice), he'd mentioned the gift already and thought it to be rude if he didn't give it to John now.  
'I'll be right back.' He mumbled, disentangling himself. After he'd walked out the lounge door, and pretty much ran to his bedroom, retrieving the gift from the back of his wardrobe. Although the pair shared a bed most nights, they still had their own rooms which held their clothes and laptops etc. So John had no reason to look in Sherlocks wardrobe anyway, but the taller man had hidden it behind some clothes anyway, just to be sure. He rushed back to the living room, stopping before he entered to regain control of his breathing, and to take a look at John. His tshirt had ridden up, and the strip of tanned skin between his low riding jeans and the hem of his shirt had Sherlock weak at the knees. Clearing his thrust softly, he entered the room with the gift carefully grasped behind his back.  
'Ok, close your eyes and hold out your hands.'  
'Seriously? I'm not six.'  
John rolled his eyes affectionately, and Sherlock almost backtracked on the whole plan. But this was John. So he replied:  
'Do you want the present or not? Because it comes with a kiss and you're not getting either unless you-'  
Before Sherlock could finish, Johns eyes were closed and his hands were waiting in front of him. Sherlock was still slightly in shock at his own confidence, but tried to control the slight tremor in his hand as he placed the unwrapped gift onto Johns patient palms.  
Opening his eyes at the feel of something hard and plastic and slightly heavier than he'd expected, John gasped quietly.  
In his hands was a beautiful pale blue plant pot, painted delicately with a small inscription running along the lip of the pot:  
''It's called a dwarf iris.''  
Sherlock remained silent as he watched Johns face soften in awe and adoration. The latter ran a finger along the fragile violet petals, and his breath shuddered.  
'You're amazing, you know that?'  
They whiled away the next couple of hours in the sofa, talking about their first date, and their meetings in the garden. They kissed softly in between discussions, and before long both had swollen lips and missed up hair.  
They were interrupted by a loud gurgle from Sherlocks stomach. John pulled away, a smirk on his red lips.  
'Yep, ok. Time for dinner.'  
'What's on the menu today?'  
Standing up slowly, John strode over to the kitchen, stretching as he opened cupboards at random.  
'Whatever's in the cupboards.'  
Reclining in the sofa, Sherlock yawned.  
'So...' John heard Sherlocks muffled voice from the lounge.  
'Beans on toast?'  
'Sounds good. Need any help?'  
John grunted in the affirmative, and before he could even get the bread in the toaster, Sherlocks thin arms wound around his waist, his fingers interlocking low on his partners hips.  
'You know, that's not really helping?'  
A muffled grunt came from the crook between Johns shoulder and his neck. So John continued to make the meal, allowing Sherlock to remained nestled there.  
That night, they ate dinner in bed, feeding eachother mouthfuls, and giggling when a stray bean fell into one of their laps.  
Once they'd finished, plates laid abandoned on the floor, and Sherlock was pinned beneath John on the bed. They kissed slowly and deeply. John rolled down upon Sherlock, the latter releasing desperate little gasps and groans. Before long his hips were snapping upwards, and John was grinding down just one last time.  
Once they were cleaned up, they laid entangled in the bed, feeling warm and soft and safe. It was the best sleep Sherlock could ever remember having.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)


	6. Chapter 6: Morning Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The double date happens and Greg is cute. Notes are at the end of the chapter too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK i was thinking firstly should i do a chapter from greg or mollys perspective to show more of their developing relationship??   
> also i know i said in the tags there'd be no angst BUT i feel like i need some otherwise this will have absolutely no plot,, and i kinda wanna turn this into a longer (maybe even multi part) work?? PLEASE comment as i don't know what to do THANK YU

Sherlock woke up first that morning. The birds sang softly outside the bedroom window, and a warm body was pressed up against his back. Remaining cocooned in soft arms, Sherlock turned quietly, trying not to wake John up. His plan worked, and though John grunted gently in his sleep, his eyes remained closed and Sherlock took the opportunity to admire the smattering of pale freckles that adorned his nose and cheekbones. The way his blonde eyelashes looked, partially covered by stray locks of wavy hair. Absently, Sherlock lifted a hand to move a bit of hair away from Johns face, and the small action suddenly made John look years younger. Pouting slightly, Johns eyes fluttered open and Sherlock greeted him with a sleepy smile, accompanied by a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose.  
Shuffling closer, John wound his arms around Sherlock, and buried his face in the crook of his neck.  
'Morning sunshine.' John's voice was muffled and Sherlock chuckled sleepily at the vibrations against his neck.  
Sherlock sighed and began to run his fingers through Johns hair. Moaning softly at the pleasant sensation, John lifted his head and kissed Sherlock softly on the lips. It didn't last long, but it left the dark haired boy breathless, and his fingers tightened slightly in Johns hair.  
They stayed so close that their noses were touching, and before long, their breaths became slow and deep, falling asleep despite the sunlight that had begun to filter through the blinds.  
When Sherlock awoke for the second time, he stretched across the mattress, and found himself disappointed; the soft sheets were still warm, but they were empty.  
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Sherlock wandered into the kitchen, wrapping a sheet around his otherwise naked body.  
Pressing a kiss to the scatter of freckles on Johns pale shoulder, Sherlock grasped the steaming mug of tea from the counter, careful not to let the sheet slip.  
'Couldn't be bothered to get changed?'  
'Mm no.'  
They both settled on the sofa, sipping their tea in silence.  
John rested his head on Sherlocks shoulder, the latter giggling softly when Johns hair tickled his neck. They stayed like that for a while, laughing at bad jokes and smiling until Johns phone buzzed quietly from the coffee table. Groaning, he leaned over to check it.  
Greg: We still meeting at 1?  
John disentangled himself from his boyfriend, and picked up his phone.  
Me: Yeah, coffee #2. Yknow where that is, right?  
Greg: Since you've told me abt 1700 times already, yeah.  
Me: Ok calm ur non existent tits, see you later.  
'That Greg?'  
'Yeah, we're meeting them at 1. So we've got like an hour.'  
An hour had passed and John, Sherlock and Greg were sat in the small coffee shop. Usually, the couple sat in the little armchairs next to the blocked up fireplace. John always with his malteasers hot chocolate, and Sherlock with coffee so strong, that when his boyfriend had tried it once, it had ended up spewed over the table.  
To accommodate the extra two people, they now sat on a thick oak table, with benches rather than chairs.  
A jingle ran through the small shop, and a slightly disheveled and red faced girl with wavy brown hair entered the shop. A teal scarf hung loosely around her neck, and hair was escaping in tendrils around her face. Her blue eyes stood out against her tinted cheeks as they scanned the room for a familiar face. Once she'd spotted them, Molly sat next to Greg, apologetic for her tardiness.  
'I'm so sorry I'm late,' she was slightly breathless as she attempted to tame her hair. She failed.  
The next few minutes passed in a series of steaming drinks, idle chatter, and shared laughter.  
'And then-' Greg broke off into a fit of giggles again as he tried to finish the story. Every time he got to this part, his face scrunched up as laughed.  
'And then...' John was impatient at the best of times, but this had been going on for the best part of ten minutes and, damn it, he wanted to hear the end of the story.  
'Then the horse just galloped off!' Proud of himself for finishing the story, Greg accompanied the anecdote with hand gestures of a galloping horse, and, though they wouldn't tell him that, the group laughed because of how ridiculous he looked rather than the 'humour' of the story.  
They all ordered second drinks, accompanied by the best Portuguese tarts in existence, and before long, three hours had passed, and goodbyes were in the process. Pulling Greg into a hug, John patted him on the back, then watched as Greg caught Mollys eye, smiling and blushing slightly.  
As they left the cafe, the joyful bell accompanying them, Molly pulled Greg into a quick hug, and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. She pressed a napkin into his hand (with scrawled writing that looked like a phone number), and turned, waving as she set off down the busy street.  
'John. Thank you for finally getting a boyfriend who can introduce me to awesome girls.'  
'You are welcome my chum.' Greg chuckled at Johns sarcastic tone, his smile warming slightly when his best friend took Sherlocks hand.  
'You two are adorable. Sherlock, don't be deceived, he's a cheeky bugger.'  
Blushing, Sherlock chuckled, and John pulled him into an awkward 'we're walking but I still want to hug you so I'm going to but I'll let go quickly because otherwise we'll both fall over' type of hug.  
'Yep your boyfriends cute.'  
'I know.' Almost as an afterthought, John added: 'And he's good in bed too.'  
Greg threw up his hands and shook his head.  
'Ok right, you ruined it you're gross. Luckily this is my turning so bye.'  
Laughing as he waved him off, John noticed Sherlocks face had turned a furiously adorable shade of red.  
Bopping him on the nose like the romantic sap that he was, John interlaced his fingers with Sherlocks again, and couldn't help the smile that stuck on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And i'm sorry this took ages but i've had exams. The next chapter should be up in the next week.  
> Also coffee #2 is based on my (second) favourite cafe called coffee #1, and my favourite seat is the one by the fireplace. Aaaand they do the fucking BEST custard Portuguese tarts and they're the best. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7: Cinema?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapters from the point of view of Greg and Molly, hope you enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this ones a bit short, i've got a lot of stuff going on atm. but hope you enjoy!

'Ok, so the film starts at 4?' Gregs slightly altered voice came through the speaker on her phone, and Molly double checked the website.  
'Yeah, so meet there at maybe quarter to?'  
'Yeah sounds good.'  
'Ok well, I'll see you then.'  
'Alright.'  
Just as she was about to hang up the phone, Gregs voice, slightly more urgent this time, blasted through the speakers.   
'Hold on a sec. How much is it?'  
'Don't worry I've got it.'  
'Really? I can- I mean I don't want-'  
'Well it's a date isn't it?'  
Molly smiled slightly, as Greg found his speech again.   
'But I-' Hearing Mollys over exaggerated sigh, he relented.   
'Fine. But I've got dinner.'  
'Perfect.'  
'Ok well, um, bye, again.'   
Mentally, Greg slapped himself. Smooth.   
'Bye, Greg.'  
Molly smiled to herself as she hung up the phone, chucking it onto the bed before striding over to the bathroom. Turning the shower on, she waited for the water to warm before stripping, removing the band from her hair and stepping into the shower. She hummed as she washed her hair, wincing when the sharp sting of conditioner entered her eye. When she'd finished, she dried off quickly, got changed and applied the minimal make up she did everyday (with maybe slightly more lipstick than usual). A glass of lemonade and a grilled cheese sandwich later, Molly sat comfortably on her bed, catching up on a few episodes of her favourite tv show before she left.   
Greg heard the three beeps as Molly hung up. He would never admit to the size of his grin at that moment. Neither would he admit to the two and a half hours that he spent in the shower. Greg Lestrade would definitely never admit to spending an hour of that exfoliating with the ridiculously expensive lotion he'd bought as a valentine's day gift for himself last year. And he didn't shave his legs either. Or his chest.   
So after the list of things that, according to anyone else never happened, Greg checked the time. A quarter to three. That gave him an hour to eat, fix his hair, choose what to wear, get changed, and try to think of what the hell he was going to say when he met Molly. That was something he always did before pretty much any social situation.   
After carefully selecting a pair of dark grey skinny jeans, a light grey shirt, an oversized denim jacket and a pair of black converse, Greg carefully mussed up his hair. Checking his phone, he realised that if he didn't leave now, he'd be late. His stomach protested at the lack of a lunch, but he figured he'd be eating later, and so ignored the relentless growling, and set off, locking the door behind him.   
Molly was going to be late. Despite achieving her drivers licence earlier that year, with student loans, and rent, and the fact that she would never, under any circumstances to go her parents for financial help, Molly found herself taking the bus everywhere. And, unfortunately, buses had a tendency to be unreliable.   
And the tardiness of the public bus service is the reason why Greg stood alone outside the new cinema, checking his phone every thirty seconds, his fingers worrying at a loose thread on the bottom on his tshirt. Then a girl rounded the corner next to the cinema, cheeks flushed and chest heaving slightly, hair still looking gorgeous despite it not being the same as it was when she's left her apartment.   
'Molly!' Greg cursed himself for his enthusiastic voice, but was silently delighted when his dates eyes lit up.   
'Hi Greg.'   
The two held eachother in a short embrace, before pulling apart slightly awkwardly, Greg appearing entirely more flustered than Molly.   
'So, um, film starts in like five minutes so-'  
'Yeah I'm sorry I'm late, my bus was late.'  
Tentatively, Greg linked fingers with Molly, then realised his mistake as the two attempted to get through the door and ended up a lot closer than they were expecting to be. Sharing awkward chuckles, the pair headed towards the ticket desk.   
'You know it's kind of a good thing you were late.'  
'Oh yeah? Why's that?'   
'Otherwise I end up eating all the popcorn before the film even starts.' Greg paused to allow Molly to giggle slightly, before adding:  
'Plus, ads are boring.'  
Once they'd paid and entered the cinema, they took their seats.   
'Wait, move up one.' Molly said as she began to gather up her popcorn and bags.   
Greg did so, but still questioned. To which Molly answered:  
'Look I've been to this cinema enough. Right here is the perfect spot. We're not too close to the screen, but the seats in front are premiere so no one ever really sits there, which means no tall people can sit in front of me.'  
'A bonus, considering how short you are.'   
'Oi!'   
Molly shoved Greg, the action leaving her closer to him, and despite her general issues with guys (she'd only ever dated three guys, and they'd all turned out to be complete sociopaths), she leaned into the touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	8. Chapter 8: Post-date phone calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after greg and mollys first date, quite a short chapter sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been so busy lately and i have no inspiration for writing but i didn't want this fic to die so i'm sorry if this is awful

John made a face at Sherlock portraying unavoidable boredom, but his eyes betrayed him, showing true interest and excitement. Sherlock smiled slightly, shaking his head, and retreated into the kitchen, leaving John to his conversation.   
'Wait, so you let her pay?'  
John could hear Gregs annoyed sigh through the phone, and could picture the exact face he was pulling. He was frustrated on the outside, but the crinkles around his eyes and the dimples on his cheeks revealed his inner begrudging respect.   
'Well, uh, yeah she insisted.'  
'But you did pay for dinner?'  
'Yes of course, I am at least partly a gentlemen.'  
John snorted, laying back on the sofa and running a hand through his hair.  
'Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it.'  
'Seriously, I gave her my jacket and everything.'  
'Well whoopee for you.'  
'Oi, your mum would have been proud of me.'  
'Yeah she's proud of anyone as long as they're straight.'  
'Wait, you told her?'  
John sighed, and sat up again. Gregs tone immediately turned from defensive yet sarcastic to urgent, and John guessed he'd jumped to his feet by the rustling he heard through the phone.   
'No, no. I- I can't yet.'  
'Look this is probably a stupid question, but how do you know-'  
'How do I know my mother is homophobic? Well, I don't know, it may have something to do with the fact that she kicked my sister out when she bought her girlfriend home.'   
John's voice had taken a nastily bitter tone, and as soon as he'd spoken, he regretted the words. Especially when Sherlocks caring gaze fell upon him from the kitchen.   
'You okay?' He mouthed.  
John just nodded, and swept a hand over his drooped head as he continued his conversation with Greg.   
'Look I'm sorry mate I-'  
'No it's fine. I was just thinking, with Harry, it was a mixture of things wasn't it? But with you-'  
'Why would she act any different?'   
'John it's up to you.' As much as he loved his best friend, John also dreaded the use of his name by him in that tone. It meant a thought out lecture that meant well, but for John thinking about things that he didn't want to think about.   
'Yeah I-'  
'Wait just listen a sec.'  
Johns submissive nature kicked in slightly, and he snapped his mouth shut. Hoping his sigh was audible through the phone, he accepted the hot mug of tea from his boyfriend, and leaned into his shoulder.   
'It's completely up to you whether you come out to her or not. But either way you've got support from all of us, and Harry, and Sherlock. And she's already lost one child because of her prejudice, you think she's gonna want to lose another? Especially not Mummy's Handsome Prince.'  
The end of Gregs little speech lost the serious tone, and John was grateful, as his emotions seemed to be going into overdrive at the moment and soon Sherlocks favourite shirt would have a damp spot that definitely had nothing to do with the tears threatening to spill.   
'Wow if you going on dates equals advice I need to set you up more often.'  
'Won't be any need for that, I'm seeing Molly again next week.'  
'Ooh are you now?'  
'Yeah, and John?'  
'Yeah?'  
'Talk to Sherlock about it.'  
'Ok.'  
The line went quiet for a few moments, then they each said their goodbyes, and John dropped his phone onto the carpeted floor.   
'How did the date go?'  
And suddenly tears began to fall silently from Johns closed eyes. The seemingly insignificant fact that Sherlock has not immediately asked about his mother had John tearing up.   
'John? Are you-'  
Sniffling slightly, John looked into Sherlocks eyes and nodded.   
'Yeah, I'm alright. I'm ok.'  
'Sure?'  
'I'm guessing you heard the conversation?'  
'Well yeah.'  
There was a long pause in which Sherlocks fingers played comfortingly in Johns hair, and the latter's breathing grew deeper as he finished sipping his tea.   
'I'm gonna tell her.'   
And John fell even more in love with Sherlock as replied.  
'If that's what you want, Mummy's Handsome Prince.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)


End file.
